


Freezing

by Reecey



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Automatron DLC, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Misunderstandings, Mother Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:09:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reecey/pseuds/Reecey
Summary: The link between Isabel and her mate formed at night, ten pm to be exact.She expected him to arrive the next day, but it's been weeks since then and he hasn't moved at all.She has to do something, right? How can she save the Commonwealth if she can't even help her own mate?(Written for JayceCarter's Soulmates in the Wasteland AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JayceCarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Running](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885746) by [JayceCarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter). 
  * Inspired by [Expectations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492091) by [JayceCarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter). 



He was _right there_.

That was, that was impossible, had to be.

No _way_ he could be so close. Her father had had to travel half the Commonwealth to find her mother, and her mate was right there?

She pulled herself to her feet, turning her head in the direction she could feel him in.

That had to be … less than a mile, she reckoned.

He could be there within the hour if he wanted.

“What’s the time, Sparks?”

The beeps said ten pm.

That must be why he seemed so scared. The ruined city was even more dangerous at night.

Well, at least it was a good sign. Being wary of night time mean he probably wasn’t a raider.

“I can wait,” she said quietly, trying to send feelings of happy, but calm, anticipation.

Sparks bleeped, questioningly.

“Oh, we’ve got work to do, Sparks. Let’s get this place presentable for our new family member, okay?”

Sparks bleeped in the affirmative.

Isabel smiled, calling up robots to help clear away the accumulated rubbish, and plotting a program that would allow one to do what she’d be physically incapable of. Just in case.

She worked through the night, only crawling into bed at five am after setting protectrons patrolling outside to intercept him and alert her if he showed up while she slept.

But he wasn’t any closer when she woke up at four in the afternoon.

He wasn’t further away, but he wasn’t any closer either.

“Patience is a virtue,” she muttered under her breath.

At seven she gave up on him coming that day.

Tomorrow, surely, she thought.

Calm and happy anticipation was what she sent his way when she had a moment to think through all the work she was doing to fix the lair up and make it suitable for a family.

Two weeks, for _two weeks_ she got up every day, sent these feelings regularly throughout the day to a faceless man she’d never met. One who seemed determined to ignore her.

Not once during that whole time did he seem to get closer or further away. He was barely moving at all.

The lair was looking the best it had ever looked, all the rubbish was gone, there were nice rooms partitioned off that had soft furnishings that her robots had managed to scavenge and even a couple of paintings, some robot figures she’d found in the factory, and her favourite comics and books were now living in a bookcase instead of a box.

She didn’t need this, she didn’t care _that_ much, her life was protecting the commonwealth from raiders, super mutants and other such threats. This was all for _him_ and he wasn’t coming to even look at it!

A burst of irritation filled her chest. She could have used this time to build more robots, fix up the systems, something _useful_ , and he couldn’t even be bothered to come and say hello? How _dare_ he!

Fear pulsed in her mind and all her irritation evaporated.

She’d barely gotten anything back from him in those two weeks, this was the strongest emotion she’d gotten since the night of their link forming.

Confusion blossomed, why was he scared? Was he scared of _her_?

But… why? They hadn’t even met!

Maybe… maybe someone had a hold of him.

A picture formed in her mind, one that explained all the information she had to hand.

He was scared of having a mate, scared of coming to see her.

Someone was going to hurt him if he left where he was, that must be why he was barely moving!

“I’m patient, I’m patient,” she chanted, trying to concentrate on sending calm soothing feelings to him before another round of calm and happy anticipation.

Carefully, clinically, she started forming a plan. She’d need to send out scouts to locate him and survey the area, but first, _first_ , she was going to have to wait until he was asleep so she could work out exactly what the distance between the two of them was.

Sparks bleeped.

“Don’t worry Sparks, the Mechanist has a plan!”

Sparks bleeped happily.

The Mechanist might have been a villain once, but this new and improved version was a hero, and she was going to save her don in distress.

Sure, she’d been hoping for a Master of Mystery type, but she wasn't the Shroud.

Her story was always going to be different.

 

* * *

 

He’d gotten fairly used to the consistent feelings coming through the link.

Sure, he couldn't set his watch to them or anything, but there was still a strong sense of routine to them.

Sometime in the late morning or early afternoon he’d get those feelings of calm seeming, happy seeming, anticipation coming through. Kind of groggy seeming. So she must have just woken up.

A couple of hours of emotional white noise and then again, a few more, and again. Late evening, again and if he was awake past midnight, yet again.

He was barely even flinching when they came through any more.

But she got angry and frustrated, and it made him stutter on air.

He caught himself and coughed, “sorry, frog in my throat. Now for another one of the Shroud’s adventures!”

The tape playing let him concentrate on smothering his emotions again, something he desperately needed when she got over her confusion and tried to soothe him before sending more of those calm seeming, happy seeming, anticipatory feelings.

The only positive he could cling onto was that she seemed determined to wait for him to come to her.

He buried his face in his hands.

He wasn’t going to do that. He couldn’t do that.

Women needed strong mates. Someone who could look after them, take care of their needs and help them through the hard times as an equal.

She was going to come after him eventually. She wasn’t far, she’d decide that coming to him was worth the risk at some point, and then he’d have to face up to everything that he’d pushed down so hard these last two hundred years.

Kent Connolly was a pushover, just like his daddy before him.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold onto a woman’s respect when the need took her.

He also knew what it looked like when a man _didn’t_.

For now though, he could push it all down, get on with his life and take advantage of what little time he had left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've played it a bit fast and loose with the canon of 'Expectations', but I love writing people teasing others too much to not write it this way.
> 
> My apologies.

She had a formula by the time the sun was rising.

She was lucky he was so close, because while the factory floor was big, it would have been far too small to get any kind of meaningful data if he’d been more than two miles away.

Or so she estimated.

It wasn’t exact, but she had a distance accurate to about twenty yards and combined with a direction (which had been far easier to figure out) all she had to do was look at a map with those two things in mind and she’d know where he was.

Still, it was a shock when she did.

Scollay Square.

He was in Goodneighbour.

She was glad he was asleep when she worked this out, because she suddenly got very anxious.

Goodneighbour was full of all sorts of unsavoury types. Criminals, chem dealers, mercs … and it had a lot of ghouls in it too.

Oh, god, what if he was a ghoul?

She sat heavily on the sofa she’d built for him.

“What if he’s a ghoul, Sparks?”

Sparks bleeped out a happy tune.

She chuckled, “well, yeah, I’m not really keen on kids. Still, it’d be kind of sad not to be able to change my mind.”

Sad bleeping.

Isabel sighed, “oh well. Maybe he’s not everything I ever wanted in a mate, but he’s still in trouble.” She hopped to her feet, “come on Sparks, we’ve got recon units to build!”

She got three steps towards her consoles when a loud, body wracking yawn escaped her.

Disapproving bleep.

“After I’ve got some sleep. What’s the time?”

Sparks indicated it was seven am.

“Okay, wake me up at noon. I want to start getting reports in the next two days.”

 

* * *

 

The feelings of willing patience started coming at even more erratic times than they had before. She was also more emotional in general, happiness and excitement mostly. Occasional annoyance, but it was mild and she normally got over it pretty fast.

It made him uneasy.

She didn’t seem to be moving though, which was some small relief.

What confused him was why she seemed so tired all the time. She wasn’t sleeping enough, but since he knew nothing about her, he had no idea why.

Combined with the emotions he was getting from her, he figured she must be working on some big important project and it seemed to be going well.

Her being happy, genuinely happy instead of just those feelings she sent on purpose, made a part of him happy. He tamped those feelings down. No matter how much he wanted to push the sentiment of ‘you can do it’ through in response, he couldn’t risk her taking it as encouragement to come get him.

In those, almost increasingly, scant and erratic hours she was asleep he allowed himself to regret that he wasn’t stronger, wasn’t better.

She seemed … nice.

Sure, it was hard to tell without actually meeting her, but from the link alone, she seemed to be fairly kind. She’d been pretty apologetic when she’d scared him, after all.

There was a passion there for something, too. He didn’t know what, but it didn’t seem perverse or cruel or anything like that. She’d probably be pretty fun once she started talking about it.

He clapped his hands against his face heavily. Not to hurt, but to make it easier to concentrate on not imagining what she was like.

“You’re a ghoul, she’d be disappointed anyway,” he muttered under his breath, glad he was done for the evening. “Not to mention that you’re not exactly Mayor Hancock or anything.”

His hands slid down his face.

It would be better that way.

She wouldn’t want to touch him and then he wouldn’t have to worry about what she’d do to him when the need took her.

He was glad when there was a knock on the door, forcing him back from the edge of the abyss that was remembering his parents’ relationship.

“Yeah? Come in.”

The door opened and Irma leaned into the room.

“Hi, Kent honey. The Mayor wants to speak with you.”

A heavily scarred hand poked around the doorframe and waved at him.

“Oh, sure, come on in Hancock.”

“Actually,” the man in question put his hands on Irma’s shoulders and maneuvered himself around her, “I was thinking I could take you out for a drink. I got a favour to ask you, and Scar’s been bugging me to introduce her to the sweet sounding guy on the radio. Might as well kill two bloatflies with one stone, you feel me?”

Kent was going to protest, but Irma interjected.

“I think it would be good for you to go out. You’ve been cooped up here even more than usual, and something does seem to be bothering you lately.”

Hancock frowned, “someone been giving you trouble?”

“Oh, no,” Kent said quickly, “nothing like that! It’s, er, it’s nothing really.”

He stood up from his chair and grabbed his hat and jacket.

“You’re right Irma, getting out would probably be good for me.”

She smiled and Hancock grinned, giving her shoulders a friendly squeeze.

The two stepped out of the doorway, giving Kent the space to leave the room. Once he had the door shut behind him, Hancock slung an arm around his shoulders and they headed to the Third Rail.

“Man, it’s a good thing I need a favour. I shoulda introduced you to Scar forever ago.”

“Y-you could’ve come over any time, you know.”

 Hancock snorted. An impressive feat for a man without a nose.

“Yeah? And if I’d rocked up to your door with a beautiful woman on my arm, you’d think I was askin’ for a threesome,” he gave Kent a sidelong grin, “I know how your perverted little mind works.”

“Hancock!”

If Kent could be bright red, he would be.

He was so glad his mate was still asleep, or she’d know exactly how embarrassed he was.

(And that he didn’t exactly hate the idea either.)

Hancock cackled as he pulled Kent into the bar and took him past Ham and down the stairs.

“Hey, go easy on the poor kid,” the bouncer called after them. “He looks like he’s about to catch fire.”

“Aww, you're ruining my fun, Ham.”

Ham chuckled and went back to his post.

At the bottom of the stairs, Hancock moved behind Kent and with a hand on each shoulder pulled them back so he stood with proper posture and, for once, at his full height.

“Alright, let’s make a good first impression, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Hey, Scar, come on over. I brought Kent.”

Kent had been predisposed to like Scarlett from the first time he’d heard about her.

Nice, sweet, kind, charismatic and knew how to deal with Hancock.

Her turning out to be so pretty and with such a gentle smile when she walked over to meet him just made him like her more.

“He promised to introduce us months ago, you know,” she said warmly, looking at Hancock with mock disapproval as she held out a hand to Kent.

“In my defence, it’s been pretty eventful around here lately.”

Kent took Scarlett’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a shy grin.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted in a coo.

“Hey,” Hancock said, with absolutely no malice in his voice whatsoever, “stop hitting on my girl with your cutie pie charm, Connolly.”

Scarlett giggled and Kent ducked his head, flattered but disbelieving.

“I’ll go get us some drinks while you two talk shop,” she smiled, “what would you like, Kent?”

“Um, I like wine, I guess?”

Hancock squeezed his shoulders, “a bottle of your best, then. C’mon Kent.”

He steered him over to the VIP room.

Once they were seated on one of the sofas, he got to the point.

“Right, so I need you to put a PSA out a couple of times tomorrow for me.”

“Sure thing, what’s it about?”

Hancock seemed surprised by that, but kept talking anyway, “okay, so I’ve been getting reports from my men that there have been a whole bunch of robots, mostly eyebots, roaming around outside the city. They don’t seem to be hostile, traders don’t mention being attacked or anything, but one of my guys said they found one broken among a group of dead raiders today, so I need everybody to know not to try and mess with these things.”

Kent made a mental note, “leave the robots alone. Got it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s more than that. It looks like they’re working up to entering the city. Probably won’t be tomorrow, but it will be soon. I don’t want there to be eyebots firing lasers all over the place just because some idiot decided to throw a rock, you feel me?”

Kent nodded.

“What do you think they're doing?"

“I ain’t got a clue. Them not being hostile’s got my gut saying it’s probably some tech savvy settlers bein’ overly cautious, but I can’t afford to take risks on this.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

“I got some notes for you. Stuff you need to mention, stuff you shouldn’t, shit like that.”

Kent shifted in his seat as he took the papers.

“Why are you telling me the things you don’t want me to say?”

“You ain’t my mouthpiece, Kent. I’m giving you a big responsibility here, so I gotta be upfront with you. Hell, let’s go a step further, consider yourself the new head of the Office of Public Communications.”

“We have an Office of Public Communications?” Scarlett asked, walking in with a tray carrying a bottle of wine and three glasses.

“We sure as shit do now.”

“Congratulations on your new government position, Mr Connolly,” she said brightly, pouring wine into a glass and handing it to him.

He looked at it sparkle in the light.

“It’s prosecco, I thought you’d like something fizzy.”

He smiled and took a sip, enjoying the taste of bubbles so much he didn’t notice the groggy feeling come through the link.

Didn’t feel the need to suppress the warm feeling of affection as he grinned at her.

“It’s really great! Thanks, Scar, you’re the best.”

Hancock’s light teasing at the use of his mate’s nickname might as well have come from a mile away for all that Kent heard it.

A sharp feeling of jealousy hit him through the link so hard that his head instinctively snapped in the direction it came from.

“Ow,” he whimpered, putting a hand to the muscle he’d pulled.

Scarlett crouched in front of him and Hancock put a supportive hand on his back.

“Are you okay? What happened, did you just …”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

His shoulders slumped forward and he started to curl in on himself, “it’s complicated,” he said quietly.

Distantly he could feel her sorrow at startling him, scaring him, and then it all went eerily quiet.

She’d never done that before.

It should have made him feel better, but instead he felt empty.

Alone.

“Shit, Kent. If you’ve got a mate, then we should-”

“No, no. Don’t do anything, please. I can’t. I just _can’t_.”

Explaining everything would take too long, be too painful.

With nowhere else to go, nothing else he could do, he burst out into tears.


	3. Chapter 3

“He doesn’t want me,” she told Sparks sadly, “he’s in love with someone else and he’s scared I’ll ruin it for him.”

She wanted to cry, but he was already so scared and sad that the idea of making it worse was just cruel.

She pushed her feelings down as hard as she could, so hard that it made her feel sick to be so empty inside.

Sparks beeped sadly, before putting out a quick burst of dramatic music.

“Oh, yes, he might still be in danger.”

She sat up on her bed.

“Let’s… let’s finish the recon on Goodneighbour, I’ll send Jezebel and the others out for some missions while we wait.”

Sparks bumped against her shoulder.

She gave him a weak smile.

“I didn't realise how much I wanted this until it got taken away.”

She sniffed back some tears and got up, dressing in her jumpsuit and heading to the robobrain control room.

 

* * *

 

Scarlett held him while he cried, and once Hancock had threatened everyone away from the VIP room he rubbed his back.

“I know this sucks, but you’ve gotta talk to us about this, Kent,” Hancock said softly, “she threatening to hurt you? Making you scared?”

Kent shook his head.

“N-no. She-she seems real nice. She’s trying real hard to make me feel welcome.”

“But she’s scaring you anyway, isn’t she?” Scarlett asked softly. “There’s got to be a reason.”

The way Hancock’s body was tensed, Kent realised that he’d have to tell them at least a little of what was going on in his head, or he might stab the woman out of desperation.

“It’s having a mate,” he admitted, “I never wanted one, thought I’d lucked out.” He took a deep breath, “it’s my parents, y’see, they didn’t have a good relationship.”

“Oh, Kent honey,” Scarlett breathed, hugging him against her chest.

For an instant, his heart rose. She got it, she understood. He wouldn’t have to say it out loud, admit his failings as a man. Admit the failings of his father.

He felt Hancock relax.

“Don’t let that ruin this for you, brother. You ain’t your daddy, I know you, you wouldn’t harm a fly. You just gotta learn to trust yourself.”

“John’s right. You’re a good, sweet, man. It wouldn’t scare you if you weren’t.”

His heart fell, the disappointment making him feel like he’d just been stabbed in the gut.

He could hide behind his tears, his fear, with Hancock and Scarlett.

“Y-yeah, it’s just hard to convince myself, y’know?”

Better to lie and hold onto whatever dignity he had left.

The arms around him, the hand on his back, they made him feel pathetic and worthless.

But there was comfort in the place he least expected it.

The warm touch of sympathy,  _ empathy _ from the link.

He could almost hear words through it.

_ ‘Me too’. _

Hancock took him back to the Memory Den once the crying calmed down. Soothing him the whole way.

“You’re a good guy, Kent. We’ll help you get through this. I’ll come see you tomorrow ‘round noon. Slow and sure, we’ll get you through this. I promise.”

Kent nodded.

Even if they didn’t really understand, he believed in them.

Tentatively, he felt hopeful.

A gentle sadness came through the link before the empty feeling of her shutting off her emotions came back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to push that sorrow through to her.

Hancock patted him on the back.

“You ain’t done nothing to be sorry for, Kent.”

He swallowed.

“Y-yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Isabel buried herself in her work as the Mechanist.

Devised patrol routes for the robobrains, gave them their last routine wipes before they headed out.

“Jezebel, you’re heading out to the west. Make sure that none of the Nuka-World gangs are thinking of moving into the Commonwealth.”

“Yes Ma’am,” the robobrain replied.

“Remember the Prime Directive?”

“Yes, outside of raiders, super mutants and feral ghouls, save the residents of the Commonwealth.”

Isabel smiled and patted Jezebel on the top of her dome gently.

“Good. I fine tuned the FIR, so I want you to test that. Don’t engage until you’ve attempted to converse, though. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Of course.”

She’d been foolish, wasting so much time on prettying up the lair for this mate of hers. Better to finish her work on this month’s patrol schedules and recon the area.

She double checked her notes one last time.

“Okay, you’re set to go out. Do me proud, J,” she beamed.

“Yes, Mechanist,” Jezebel replied.

Isabel motioned for her to head out and the group of robots left on their long journey.

She glanced over to the ruins of the Brotherhood of Steel’s airship. This whole operation was a lot easier not they weren’t hanging around on her doorstep.

Not to mention, there was a  _ lot _ of decent scrap there for her to take advantage of. She’d need to send another salvage team out to pick some up in the next couple of months, but she’d need more decontamination equipment before she could do that.

She sent out the next three robobrains and noted down the necessity for more decon units before scanning through the rest of her notes.

Ah, yes. The Institute ruins, that was her next big project. Goodneighbour, the Prydwen and then the Institute.

Isabel noted down to do an inventory on the gen-two synth parts that her patrols had thus far collected in case they brought more back and, with a heavy heart, turned towards the grave nestled in the corner of the yard.

The flowers were long wilted. She needed to replace those.

The grave was untouched, the marker was looking a bit mildew ridden, though.

“And prepare a replacement for Susan’s grave marker,” she mumbled, writing it down. “Okay.”

She smiled at Sparks.

“That’s the last piece of Mechanist business. Let’s check on this new batch of recon data.”

He’d been anxious and stressed over the last few days.

Isabel wasn’t sure what to think, he didn’t seem to be in danger, but that his emotions were this wrought worried her.

She needed to check on him, and hopefully, this last batch of data would confirm that Goodneighbour was safe enough to venture to.

Her robots had some skirmishes, but they were minor and exclusively with raiders.

She didn’t want to send a robobrain out to the city unless she had to, they were for situations that needed greater finesse and all this was was recon. Showing her hand too early would only cause problems.

Once the data was loaded into the mainframe, she sifted through it.

In the city walls her eyebots had not been attacked, which was nothing if not a good sign.

It seemed safe enough, she decided.

“Okay. We should prepare to head over in the morning, there should be a caravan we can tag along with crossing the bridge by ten am.”

Sparks bleeped.

She nodded, and with a hand on her chest, she carefully sent through feelings of concern and curiosity.

She didn’t know how to express ‘I’m coming to see you and make sure you’re okay’ without words, but she thought it as hard as she could, hoping it got through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I T B E G I N S


	4. Chapter 4

She was worried.

He didn’t know about what, but he hoped it wasn’t serious.

Even if the idea of her touching him filled him with fear, he didn’t want her to be hurt or upset.

She wasn’t trying to hide it from him, and he didn’t fully understand why until the morning.

He was making the first of the day’s broadcasts in his new role working for Hancock when a new feeling that he’d never sensed before came through the link.

She was on the move.

He pushed down his panic as best as he could to finish the announcement. The usual, don’t engage the robots, the source is under investigation, and a quick extra announcement about the Minutemen being contacted to see if this was a Commonwealth wide problem.

With that business out of the way, he introduced the episode and took a deep breath.

He let himself feel the panic, so she could feel it.

It was the closest thing to honesty he’d expressed since talking to Hancock and Scarlett.

Her worry, a feature of their connection since yesterday, grew.

Kent was confused.

There was a pulse of mild frustration, but then a gentle feeling of affection combined with more of that worry.

He blinked, the combination of emotions …

“Are you worried about  _ me _ ?” he asked out loud.

Even though he’d been so scared, even though he’d been so sad, even though he’d shut himself off from her so much, she still cared about him.

It made him a little bit happy, even though his fears thrummed in his ears and under his skin like a stingwing.

She must have felt his little spark of joy. Her concern didn’t go away, but there was a warmth he could feel there.

He didn’t have long before he needed to be back on air, so he got to his feet and headed into the Memory Den proper to warn Irma about their incoming guest.

It had been a long time since he’d been this scared, but it had also been a long time since he’d had hope like this either.

He couldn’t decide if it made things better or worse.

 

* * *

 

The caravan that Isabel had tagged along with had their doubts about her, she could see that.

“Hey, that’s not one of those eyebots, is it?” one of the guards asked, eyeing Sparks warily.

“He is,” she replied, “he’s my personal eyebot. Kinda like a pet, I guess.”

“Ah, okay. It’s just there’s been a bunch of them and some weird looking protectrons lurking around Goodneighbour lately.”

Her eyes widened, worried that he’d figure out that they were hers, but he didn’t take it that way, luckily.

“They haven’t been attacking any of the caravans, just the raiders stupid enough to shoot first. We’re just all on edge because we don’t know what their intentions are.”

Isabel nodded.

Once she was clear on how her mate was doing, the Mechanist would need to introduce himself to the people of Goodneighbour.

“Keep an eye on Sparks. Eyebots are kinda cute, it’d be a shame if something happened to him.”

The guard gave Sparks a smile and patted Isabel on the shoulder before striding ahead to look out for trouble.

She parted ways with the caravan once they were in the city walls.

The Watch eyed Sparks warily, but they didn’t attack him or anything, just warned her to keep him under control and to tell them if she got any grief for having him with her.

“I will,” she agreed quietly.

“Good,” the ghoul she spoke to said cheerfully, “by the way, if you ain’t busy later, how’s about you and me meet up in the Third Rail? I gotta say I’m a fan of women who’re good with their hands.”

“No thanks!” she said hurriedly. “I’m meeting someone, it’s not because you’re a ghoul! He might be a ghoul. It’s uh, it’s my mate, y’see.” She added in a rush when she caught the flash of hurt on the man’s face.

This is why she hated dealing with people, she always messed up.

He nodded in understanding.

“Well, if he ain’t the jealous type, I’m always free.”

Isabel blushed.

The man laughed and patted her on the shoulder with a wink.

“Go get ‘im, tiger.”

Isabel gave him a shy smile and scurried in the direction she could feel her mate.

 

* * *

 

She was moving fairly fast in his direction.

He was prepared, had about half an hour’s worth of material he could put on if he had to.

With her this close he was expecting to be in a panic by now, but the way she was thrumming with flattered embarrassment made it hard to be scared.

He bet she was cute when she blushed.

Doing his best to keep calm, he carried on with the broadcast.

 

* * *

 

She took a few moments to get her breath back in the entranceway of the Memory Den, trying to not look so flushed.

Making a good impression was important, and not advertising the reason she was there was also a good idea. Just in case.

She set her shoulders back and walked past the old box office.

He was in a room to her right, she could feel him there, just a door and a brick wall away.

A blonde woman in a red dress stood from where she’d been reclining artfully on a chaise longue.

“Why, hello, what do we have here?”

Was this her? The person that her mate was in love with?

“Um, I’m new in town,” Isabel explained nervously, “I was wondering what you do here?”

The woman smiled kindly holding out her hand for a quick shake, “we help people to relive their memories. We have other services, but my partner is the one who deals with those.”

“Your partner?”

Was it worse than she thought? Was he  _ married _ to this woman?

“Dr Amari, she’s currently in the back room. Would you like to speak with her?”

She couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Oh, no. I’m fine, thanks.”

The woman was smiling knowingly, “I’m Irma, by the way.”

“Oh! Sorry, Isabel. Isabel Cruz.”

Irma gave her a slight nod.

“The Memory Den also houses the Silver Shroud radio station, through that door just there.” She motioned to a door with a cut out of the titular crimefighter next to it.

Isabel’s eyes zoned in on that door.

He was a radio host?

No wonder he’d barely moved. He had a job to do.

If she’d been relieved before, it was  _ nothing _ compared to this. All the tension she’d been holding in the last month melted away and she sagged a little.

“Is everything alright, darlin’?” Irma asked, gently setting a hand on her shoulder. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

“Hm?” Isabel looked back at her. “Oh, oh no, I’m fine. Erm… is the show broadcasting now?”

A nod.

“Is there anywhere I can go listen to it?”

“Sure thing, if you’re real nice to Scarlett at the Third Rail, she might let you listen to it there.”

Isabel smiled brightly, “thanks.”

A gentle squeeze.

“It’s no trouble. You come back any time you feel like, okay?”

Isabel nodded and headed out of the Memory Den with a spring in her step.

He was safe, her mate was safe! Everything else was secondary to that.

Even if he didn’t want her, even if he was in love with someone else, even if there was a stupid argument about the Shroud in her future, he was  _ safe _ .

 

* * *

 

His emotions churned in his chest as she left.

She’d been just on the other side of that door, he could have touched her in seconds, but instead of sitting down and waiting for him to join her, she’d just … left.

Walked out the door.

She was so happy it almost overwhelmed him, her relief bubbling through him like the prosecco from the Third Rail.

_ So why did she leave? _

He should be happy, if she didn’t touch him, seal that bond, she’d never need to hurt him.

Yet his fingers curled into his palms and he felt frustrated.

Trying not to let that frustration seep into his voice or through the link, he introduced an episode.

Once it started, he stood and marched to the door, unlocking it and wrenching it open.

Irma was standing on the other side, her arms crossed under her bust.

“I thought you might do this. Calm down, Kent. She’s just gone to the Third Rail.”

He deflated.

“Oh.”

She pulled him into a gentle hug.

“It’s okay,” she smiled, pulling back, “she’s gone to listen to the show.”

“I feel so frustrated,” he mumbled.

“It’s ‘cause she got so close and you’ve been so stressed lately. Your body’s telling you that if you had her in your arms, you’d feel better.”

He peeked up under the brim of his hat.

“Would I?”

“You would, at first, but then the mess in your head would come back and hit you like a behemoth,” she said soothingly, cupping his cheek. “I don’t know what happened with your parents, but you should talk to Isabel about it. She wants to help you, I can tell.”

“D-didn’t John tell you?”

Irma chuckled, “he told me what he knows, but he’s wrong, ain’t he?”

Kent nodded.

“Yeah, I can’t blame him. After everything Fahrenheit went through, and those girls, Nora and Haylen, I can see why he’d think that. But that’s not the truth, is it? Only you know that,” she patted him on the cheek, “and you ain’t gotta tell anyone if you don’t want to.”

She sighed.

“But if you’re gonna tell anyone, tell Isabel. She can’t help you if you don’t tell her, and you two won’t ever be happy if you won’t let her help you.”

Kent nodded.

“I- it might take a while. But I’ll tell her.”

“Good.”

He took in a deep breath and stood up straight, seeking some measure of confidence.

“So, um, her name’s Isabel?”

“Yeah, and she’s real pretty too. I think you’re gonna get on just great.”

He smiled.

“I hope so.”

“I  _ know  _ so. Now go on, give your girl a great show.”

“Thanks Irma, I will.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Third Rail was a pretty intimidating place.

At first she thought it was going to be a dive bar, but then the bouncer turned out to be a dapperly dressed ghoul.

He eyed her up appraisingly, and for a second she genuinely thought he was going to turn her away for being under dressed.

“It’s quite early, the bar’s barely open,” he said levelly.

“Um, the, um, the lady at the Memory Den, Irma, she said that I should talk to Scarlett here? I want to listen to the Silver Shroud radio station.”

His eyes widened for a second before he gave her a fatherly smile.

“Right downstairs,” he said with a graceful gesture of his arm and a slight bow.

Isabel giggled and pretended to curtsey.

“Thank you.”

His warm chuckle followed her down the stairs.

The place was going for as classy as it could manage, which admittedly wasn’t much, but the bar clearly knew that and accepted it about itself.

It had _character_.

A character that might stab you, but it would at least tell you a few good stories and buy you a drink first.

And like that character, she couldn’t help but kind of like it, even if it was clearly bad for her health.

Isabel walked over to the bar, where a Mr Handy was disinterestedly cleaning some glasses.

“Excuse me?”

He turned an eyestalk towards her.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I was told to ask for a Scarlett?”

“Do I look like a Scarlett?”

“You look like a General Atomics Leyland BB-23 model Mr Handy.”

His focal lenses narrowed.

“Limited run, manufactured in a small workshop in Cheapside for maximum authenticity.”

He seemed to consider her for a moment before shouting (or as close as robots did), “hey, boss. You’ve got a visitor!” to the back room.

“You sure know your stuff, most of these cretins can’t tell a BB-23 from a BL-22.”

Isabel leaned to one side, peering at his thruster.

“Yeah, but the BL-22s were manufactured in the Midlands for the domestic and European market. Seeing one here would be highly unlikely.”

She straightened up, “and they don’t have the same thruster balance issues. Want me to take a look at it? I could probably get you back on BL-22 spec standards.”

He grumbled something unflattering about BL-22s being too stupid to tell their thrusters from their arm joints before answering, “yeah, sure. Never understood why us BB-23s had this issue to begin with.”

“Spite, because you were built as a novelty for the American market.”

“You see, now you say that, I kind of don’t wanna get it fixed.”

“That’s the indomitable charm of the BB-23s,” Isabel grinned.

“BB-23?” a woman asked.

“It’s my model number,” Charlie explained before rolling his eyestalks. “I don’t believe it, he hands over ownership of this place, but your old china doesn’t even tell you that? I’m insulted.”

Isabel turned to see a very pretty blonde woman in a nice dress smiling at her.

“Um, you must be Scarlett.”

“I am, how can I help you?”

“Um, Irma said I could listen to the Silver Shroud here. If that’s not a problem?”

Scarlett’s eyes widened the same way that the gentlemanly bouncer’s did before her smile brightened.

“This way, there’s a radio over here you can listen to until Magnolia's set starts.”

She hooked an arm through Isabel’s and gently dragged her to the end of the bar, switching the radio on for her.

The episode was drawing to its conclusion as Scarlett bustled behind the bar, getting Isabel a Nuka-Cola.

“Well, that was the Silver Shroud everybody. We’ve got another action packed episode coming right up for you, but first, a message from the Goodneighbour Office of Public Communications.”

She stared at the radio as she listened, as though if she looked hard enough she could see him on the other side.

He sounded so sincere. It was the first thing that struck her about his voice.

Sure, it was a little scratchy, but he sounded really kind and cute.

It wasn’t a sweet nothings in the candlelight kind of voice, it was a laughing at a picnic in the sun kind of voice.

It reminded her of everything she was working for as the Mechanist.

And she really liked it.

“The robots spotted in and around Goodneighbour continue to show no hostility, so Mayor Hancock’s order of ‘do not engage’ still stands. Investigations into the cause are continuing, and the Minutemen have been contacted to see if this is a localised occurrence. Keep vigilant, Goodneighbour, and report any attempted hostility to your local Neighbourhood Watch member.”

She barely noticed the bottle being put in front of her, not seeing the bright smile on Scarlett’s face as she watched Isabel listen to the radio.

There was a brief pause and then, “On a personal note. Welcome to Goodneighbour, Isabel.”

She jumped on her stool, nearly knocking her drink over.

He chuckled, “now it’s time for another of the Shroud’s adventures.”

The theme music started and Isabel’s hand flew to her chest, trying to calm down.

“Took you by surprise, didn’t he?” Scarlett asked with a grin, leaning back on the bar next to her.

Isabel nodded, “yeah … I guess Irma must have told him my name.”

He felt peevishly happy through the link

She couldn’t help but grin and try to send that good humour back.

“Are you telling me _she’s_ Connolly’s mate?” Charlie demanded.

“She sure is.”

“That jammie little git. Oh well, I suppose we can keep her if we _must_.”

Scarlett giggled.

“Kent will be ‘round once his show’s over. I mean, he better be, or John will drag him over kicking and screaming.”

“John?”

“Mayor Hancock, he’s my mate. Um, word to the wise,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “don’t say he’s dressed like a pirate. It’s revolutionary era costume.” She nodded once and stood straight.

“Okay. Well, now I know.”

“He should be storming in any second now.”

“Before he does, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“No, be my guest.”

Isabel rubbed her neck.

“Is Kent a ghoul? It’s just, this is Goodneighbour, and well, it seems likely.”

Scarlett looked kind of sad.

“Is that a problem?” she wasn’t mad, or judgemental, just curious.

Isabel shrugged.

“Que sera sera, I guess. It’s just, I don’t want to be surprised, that’s all.”

Scarlett put a hand on Isabel’s shoulder, “yeah, it can be hard when you’re not expecting it.” She gave her a smile of sisterhood and slight sadness. “He is.”

“I thought he might be. Oh well, it’s-”

“Where is she? I wanna see her.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes.

“She’s right here, John.”

A ghoul, who was not dressed dissimilarly to a pirate, but still definitely in _revolutionary era_ costume, strode over.

Isabel went to stand but he waved a hand.

“Nah, you can stay sitting. I just gotta talk to you.”

She nodded.

“Um, are you friends with Kent?”

“Yeah, so,” he sat down next to her, eyes narrowed. “What are your intentions?”

Scarlett buried her face in her hands, and Charlie floated away, laughing raucously.

“I, um, really just came to check on him. He didn’t move and seemed really scared, I wanted to make sure he was alright.” She folded her arms, “besides, I think he might be in love with someone else.”

“Listen, sister. The only woman in that man’s heart is the Mistress of Mystery, that means there’s plenty of space in there for you. Which ain’t gonna be hard to get, I mean, come on, look at you. He’s gonna be smitten.”

Scarlett flicked his hat so it fell over his eyes.

Isabel grinned.

“Okay, I deserved that.”

“Good, you’re learning.”

He readjusted his hat.

“We gotta lay some ground rules. He’s got some trauma, so sealing this bond? No way are you two doing that anytime soon.”

“He’s over a hundred years your senior,” Charlie pointed out from the other end of the bar.

Hancock didn’t even look at him, just pulled out a pair of gloves from one pocket and a silk scarf from the other.

“Here, wear these.”

“What’s the scarf for?”

“In case you two wanna kiss.”

Isabel blushed.

“O-okay.”

“Yeah, so … I guess we wait for Kent now.”

“You all do realise that the show isn’t ending for another three hours, right?” Charlie asked.

Hancock and Scarlett looked embarrassed.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Kinda got over excited.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before.

“Soo … ever play chess?”

“A few times, I know all the rules.”

“Wanna play? It’s just, I haven’t had anyone to play since Fahr left, and uh, I’d kinda like to win for once.”

“How come you never asked me?” Scarlett demanded.

“Because I know you’re better than me at chess. I’d like to face someone who isn’t going to wipe the floor with me right away _before_ you start kicking my ass.”

“I’ll do my best,” Isabel promised her.

“You better, I want him _crying_.”

 

* * *

 

Irma had given him a pep talk before he headed out, reminding him that he wasn’t committing to anything, and that getting to know her was the best for step in whatever they decided to do.

He felt like he was ready for anything, but he was wrong.

He backed up the stairs in the Third Rail.

“Uh, Ham? What’s going on down there?”

“Hancock challenged your mate to chess thinking it would be an easy win. She’s ahead ten matches to three and the regulars decided to start a betting ring to see if he can manage to claw back his dignity.”

“Ah, okay. It’s just-”

“Yeah, ain’t exactly the most romantic scenario to meet your mate. I’ll go deal with it.”

Kent lurked by the top of the stairs as Ham went into the bar and talked to Hancock.

There was some yelling, some cheering, some booing and a lot of shuffling feet before Ham returned.

“They’re waiting for you in the VIP room. Hancock told me to give you these. Put ‘em on, would you?”

He handed Kent a pair of gloves.

Kent slipped them on and smiled at him.

“Thanks Ham.”

“Good luck,” was the bouncer’s reply, giving him a hearty clap on the back.

Deep breath, full height, and he made his way back down the stairs, heading straight into the VIP room.

Hancock loomed over him out of nowhere and slung an arm about his shoulders.

He was surprisingly heavy on Kent’s right side, and it was only when he peered at him did he realise why.

Hancock was shorter than he was.

He’d never realised that before.

Still managed to loom though, must be a confidence thing.

“So, you ready?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” Kent said quietly.

“That’s close enough for hand grenades.”

He slipped behind Kent and, with his hands on his shoulders, drove him further into the room.

Scarlett, because they had clearly planned this at some point, pulled away and a screen and finally, _finally_ , he was looking at his mate.

He’d expected Hancock to have Daisy doll her up, but the woman standing in front of him was wearing a practical jumpsuit, boots and gloves. The only indication that Hancock had been anywhere near her was the silk scarf around her neck and the mildly embarrassed look on her face.

She was _gorgeous_.

Dark eyes and hair, a sharp brow and soft features that he wanted to trace with his finger tips.

“Er, hi!” he said, holding out his hand.

He could feel Hancock facepalming behind him.

Isabel didn’t seem to notice, a shy smile spreading across her face as she reached out and took his hand.

Even with them both wearing gloves, it still felt good.

Kent’s toes curled and Isabel let out a happy sigh.

“Hi,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He ducked his head and gave her a small grin.

“Likewise.”

Hancock nudged him in the back.

“Er, would you like to take a seat?”

She nodded and, it might just have been the light, but he thought she might be blushing.

Gosh, he wanted to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did make the Cockney robot a technical Cockney. And yes, I did make him prejudiced against my people, the Brummies.
> 
> Come at me, bro.
> 
> (BL stands for British Leyland and BB stands for Bow Bells. In case you were wondering.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, but I'm gonna make the next one longer to make up for it.

The settlement she’d grown up in had a few ghouls in it.

Mr McGregor, Johnny, Laura and Hesperia (her real name was Keisha and everyone called her that, much to her disappointment).

She’d always considered herself lucky because of this, meant that she wouldn’t freak out on people. Well, not because of the way they looked anyway, her natural nervousness managed to do a good enough job by itself on that front.

Now she was really grateful for it, because it meant that she could look at Kent and see his adorable smile and apple-y cheeks instead of just his skin and his lack of nose.

He sat next to her, fingers interlaced and hands resting between his legs, smiling at her like all his Christmases had come at once.

She was glad that the lights in the VIP room were red, because her face was burning.

Sparks bleeped happily.

“Oh, right, um, Kent, this is Sparks, Sparks Kent.”

Sparks floated in front of Kent.

“Uh, hi buddy.”

His hands lifted and he looked confused, “uh, do you pet eyebots?”

“No need, but he does like compliments.”

“Heh, well, you are a cutie, Sparks.”

Sparks let out a little tune.

Kent chuckled.

“It takes one to know one,” she said without thinking.

She was so sad that ghouls didn’t blush, because if they did, Kent would be bright red.

Instead she basked in the feeling of flustered attraction coming from their link.

She’d really like to kiss him, but they’d only just met. Even for mates, that was moving a little fast.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, peering up from under the brim of his hat.

Isabel grinned and reached out, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s true, you’re really cute.”

He cleared his throat.

“Y-you’re beautiful.”

He was so sincere that it was her turn to get flustered.

“Th-thanks.”

Sparks bleeped again.

“Ah, um, Sparks, go rest in the corner. I’ll pick you up later, okay?”

Sad bleeping, but the eyebot floated to the corner and settled down to go into sleep mode.

Kent watched him go before turning back to Isabel with a frown.

“Um, nobody gave you any trouble over him, right? It’s just there’s been a lot of bots roaming around Goodneighbour lately.”

“No. We got some looks, but nobody approached us or anything.”

“Good,” he said firmly before smiling again.

He had a face made for smiling. She didn’t want him to do anything else.

“So, um, you’re a radio host?”

“Yep,” he grinned, “I started because I wanted to bring the Shroud to more people. We need a hero in these dark times, don’t you think?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

He got it!

“You’ll probably think it’s dumb, but I’ve got this plan to bring the Shroud to life.”

Bringing the Shroud to life? Well, maybe the Mechanist was cooler, but if she could work with the Shroud, then they could do so much  _ good _ together.

His eyes lit up at her expression before he sighed wistfully, “shame I’m not tough enough to leave Goodneighbour.”

Isabel squeezed his hand.

“Hey,” she said, ducking her head to look him in the eyes, “it’s dangerous out there. There’s no shame in keeping yourself safe.”

“I should have kept you safe,” he said, guilt radiating from his expression, posture and through the link, “but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, Kent. It wasn’t feeling sorry for yourself, it was … I could tell, you were scared.”

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, a maelstrom of emotion roaring on his face and through the link.

“How could I ever have been scared of you?” he asked, voice soft.

She felt like he was a powerful electromagnet and she was just a tiny iron filing, leaning in to close the gap between them and-

“Hey!” Hancock shouted from across the room, “no smooching without the scarf!”

 They sprang apart, the tension between them shattered, and with nothing else to do with all the pent up energy, they both burst out into laughter.

Kent was clutching his side and Isabel was doubled over, elbows resting on her knees, as she almost cackled.

They grinned at each other when the laughter subsided.

Feeling brave, Isabel pulled the scarf up and over her mouth and nose before leaning in to give Kent a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“I can wait,” she said softly.

Even though it was intertwined so completely with fear, the heat of his desire made her heart skip a beat.

“This is,” he took a deep breath, “this is too much,” he whispered.

“Y-yeah.”

He hooked his fingers into the scarf and pulled it down, slipping out and trailing down her neck.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked.

Her tongue peeked out to wet her lower lip, the churning fear and desire making her light headed.

Suddenly, Kent was yanked to his feet.

“Sure thing, we’ll put her up at the State House,” Hancock said cheerfully, belying the tight grip he had on Kent’s arm. “That cool with you, sister?”

Isabel nodded, eyes wide.

“Cool, come on Kent, let’s get you back to the Memory Den.”

He nodded rapidly.

Hancock bade her goodnight and pulled Kent out of the Third Rail with him.

She watched them go, feeling a little bit like she’d just been punched in the chest by a super mutant.

 

* * *

 

Hancock deposited Kent onto his bed and started pacing.

“Okay,” he said after Kent wordlessly watched him make three cycles, “what the hell was that?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Hancock stood in front of him, hands on his hips and peering at Kent’s face.

“Shit, you really don’t.”

He sat next to him.

“You gonna be okay?”

Kent kicked lightly at the ground, “I dunno. It’s all so overwhelming. I wanna run, but I wanna - I wanna …”

He wanted things that he thought he never could.

Hancock put a hand on his back and gently rubbed.

“Hey, hey, I know. But you gotta take it slow, remember? You’ve got a lotta shit to work through in your head, and no matter how pretty she is, no matter how sweet, or how many times she kicks my ass at chess, that ain’t changing overnight.”

Kent smiled at the mention of chess.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just hard to remember in the heat of the moment.”

Hancock grinned, “yeah, I didn’t know you had it in you, Kent.”

“Huh?”

“I was convinced you were gonna try and get into her jumpsuit right there. You just about had your hand on the zipper when I grabbed you.”

“What? No, no I-” he buried his face into his hands, “oh god, I did.”

The rubbing turned into a brotherly pat.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Izzy’s a real hottie, after all.”

Kent sat up and sighed wistfully, “she really is gorgeous. I’m so lucky.”

“She is too, buddy, she is too.”


End file.
